


Fledgling Devotion

by littleredfablewriter



Series: Devotion [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:25:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3693914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleredfablewriter/pseuds/littleredfablewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cecily was created, she was given to Michael, who raised her and loved her. In the beginning, they loved each other and Cecily was devoted to Michael in a sweetly innocent way. </p><p>[Part 1 of the "Devotion" series]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Creation

Some say that Angels simply began….that God, in His infinite wisdom, simply thought them into being. Others says that they were created from clouds, that He sculpted them as if from ice and breathed life into their beings. The latter is slightly closer to the truth of things, in that, He uses the clouds as a sort of mold, as a way to shape them before he gives them life and characteristics. 

Michael was there when Cecily was created. He was there for most creations of the younger angels and for each one, God had added different elements from Heaven. For Cecily, He used flowers from His garden: a daisy for innocence, gladiolus for strength of character, two tulips, violet and wisteria, for faithfulness and steadfastness. He used feathers from a Lilac-breasted Roller and added a gentle wish of protection to her Grace before he lowered it into the Heavenly Fire, carefully placing the fragile object where her heart lie. 

When she awoke, it was with a gentleness that seemed to belly how some of the others had awoken (Michael himself had been rather violent the first couple of days, the fire too strong in his heart. Arguably, Lucifer’s fire was too weak). But Cecily had awoken as if from a nap filled with sweet dreams, little lips curved into a sweet smile as she looked at the two beings before her.  
“H-Hello,” she whispered, voice soft and sweet, like honey. “W-Who are you?” she'd asked. "W-Who am I?"  
He had smiled down and lifted her in His arms, placing a gentle, loving kiss to her cheek.  
“I am your Father. And you are Cecily, my beloved daughter.” 

She was given to Michael, who taught her of their Father’s work: of how He had created Earth and all of the things on it, including the humans. Cecily was a curious fledgling, constantly asking questions, looking for hidden answers and solutions to puzzles. Her giggle was infectious and she was almost always seen with flower crowns of varying varieties and sizes, handing them out to her brothers and sisters. Somehow, someway, they were almost always the wearer’s favorite flowers and it only made Cecily smile all the brighter. 

Michael often allowed her to follow him to training. Whenever he would help the other soldiers learn to fight, Cecily was by his side, wrapped around his leg as she ate a sweet that Gabriel had given her (much to Castiel’s chagrin because Gabriel was _his_ guardian, but she didn't really care about that, only that she got a sweet). The way she followed Michael about, as if she’d lose him if she didn’t, had the other Angels smiling because they knew she would always follow Michael, no matter what: even if she were to Fall, even if she were to doubt him, it was obvious how much she loved Michael. 

And it was obvious, too, how much Michael loved this tiny little fledgling that he was in charge of. It was in the way he doted on her and yet chastised her, taught her gently but firmly so she could learn why something was wrong and how to make it right. It was in the way he held her at night, close and surrounded by feathers because she’d had a nightmare and her own wings trembled with fright. 

It was all so perfect, almost too perfect, but Cecily was too young to notice or care and Michael was too wrapped up in his charge and in his duties to worry about the distant future. While curious, Cecily was naive, believing almost anything anyone would tell her. Michael was quick to rebuke them for teasing her so and would lift Cecily into his arms, where she smiled happily as she nestled against him. 

 

The night their Father left, all of Heaven was in an uproar, panic causing several Angels to murmur, to begin to wonder if they should have followed Lucifer. Michael had put Cecily to bed before going to calm them, assuring them that their Father would return because didn't He always? This was simply another visit to Earth, to visit His humans, but He would always come back to them. 

After the masses had calmed and returned to their own homes in Heaven, Michael quietly entered his own residence, blinking as he saw Cecily curled up on his bed. 

"What ever is the matter, little one?" he asked, lifting her up and into his lap as he took a seat on his bed. 

"Scared....What if Father doesn't come back?" she whispered, voice worried and filled with fear. 

Michael frowned and rubbed her back, trying to lull her to return to sleep. 

"I don't know, Cecily." he murmured. "For once, I don't know."


	2. Sword Play

The first time Michael gave her a sword, Cecily was a little put out. It wasn’t a real sword, not like Castiel’s and she couldn’t help but pout as she stared at it dully. Michael grinned, lifting her into his arms even as she puffed out her cheeks at him.  


“Cecily,” he rumbled, “I am not as irresponsible as Gabriel. You need to learn with a practice sword first.”  


The little fledgling sighed and nodded, observing her little wooden sword. Well, she supposed that it would be a start and besides, Michael was right (when wasn’t he?). She didn’t know how to use a sword and Castiel had almost cut his hand off within the first five minutes of owning his sword.  
So she toddled after Michael, sword held close and one hand clinging to his. They were stopped by one of their sisters (Cecily didn’t know her name and she couldn’t be bothered to care to learn it). The woman looked down, her blonde hair covering a part of her face and Cecily curled closer against Michael.  


“My. She’s getting so big, Michael.”  


“Yes. Cecily is a darling. I’m teaching her to fly.”  


“Already? You don’t think it’s too soon?”  


Cecily frowned as they continued to chat, wings fluttering softly. She was bored and Michael had _promised_ to teach her how to use her new sword.  
As if sensing her displeasure, Michael smiled and picked her up, nuzzling her softly before excusing them from the still chattering blonde.  


“I am very proud of you,” he murmured.  


“For what?” she asked softly, curling closer.  


“For acting like an adult. Even though you could have, you didn’t throw a tantrum. For _that_ I am proud of you.”  


Cecily’s cheeks warmed with pleasure, tinting the other-wise pale skin a soft pink.  
Michael chuckled softly and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek ruffling her hair as he placed her on her feet.  


“Now. Let’s practice with your new sword, hm?”  


Cecily cheered in delight and nodded, smile bright as she watched Michael walk off to get a practice sword of his own. She remained faithfully in her spot until he returned and as he walked her through the movements, she dutifully copied them, wanting to impress him, to make him proud of her.  
What she didn’t know was how proud he already was.

That night, as he put her to bed, he couldn't help but laugh at how cute he found her, her little body curled around the wooden play sword, choosing it for comfort over the little stuffed animal he had made for her the first night she'd had nightmares. Michael had worried that she would put up a fight, that she'd resist the little wooden item because she wanted to be better than Castiel. But she hadn't, had even come to love the sword, and Michael adored how grown-up she was at times.  
Still, a part of him worried, and while he wanted to see what the future held for her....no. No, he couldn't go down that road. It wouldn't lead to anything good.  
Sighing softly, he placed a kiss on Cecily's temple and quietly left her to dream.


	3. Father's Return

When Father returned (because He had just gone for a visit to see how things were going) Cecily was clambering to see him first. She had just reached out, nearly touching his robes before Castiel (stupid little imp, she really wanted to fight him to show just who was better) shoved her out of the way and grabbed on to His hand. Father’s smile was warm and He lifted the fledgling up and Cecily couldn’t stop the warm, angry tears from falling down her cheeks.  
Michael frowned and leaned down to pick her up but she was too angry to want any form of affection at that moment and carefully pushed his hand away. Biting her lip, she took the flower crown that she had made Father and walked off, shoulders hunched and wings quivering. If He saw, He didn’t say anything and the thought made Michael frown all the more.  


So when the excitement of Father’s return had died down and the fledglings were taken by their guardians to have a nap, Michael made his way to his home, hoping that Cecily would be there. And she was and at first Michael was relieved, until he saw the petals that littered the floor around her, her little hands shaking as she looked down at the now barren crown.  
He didn’t say anything, Michael never had too, and he silently placed a hand on her head before running his fingers through her curls in soothing comfort.  


“Cecily….Father loves you,” he murmured, trying to reassure her though the tenseness of her shoulders suggested that it wasn’t working.  


The fledgling shook her head and gave a tiny, forlorn sigh.  


“He prefers Castiel…” she breathed. “It’s obvious. And Castiel….”  


Cecily frowned, trying to work something out in her head because she had no understanding of the emotion that flooded her heart, only that it was hot and demanding and made her want to cry and scream.  


“I do not care for him. He is mean and arrogant….”  


Arrogant was a word that Michael had taught her when she asked why Raphael walked around with a puffed up chest and Michael couldn’t help but chuckle as she used it to describe Castiel.  


“Come on, little one. Would you like for me to play with you? Maybe we could make Father a new flower crown?”  


Cecily shook her head, cheeks flaring a bright scarlet with her anger.  


“No!” she exclaimed, loudly, and the intensity with which she said the word startled Michael more than the word itself.  


“No?” he asked.  


“No. Father….Father doesn’t deserve one of my crowns. He should just get one from _Castiel_.”  


Had it been said in any other sentence, Michael would have smiled as she sneered the other fledgling’s name. As it was, he was more concerned with her words about Father, who was perfect and if anyone deserved a flower crown from his little sister, it was Him.  


“Cecily. Come on, now, little one. You don’t-“  


“I do! You told me He didn’t pick favorites, that He loved us all! But you were wrong!”  


She was standing now, wings fluffed to look intimidating and perhaps to a small animal, it might have worked. But Michael was far older and bigger than she was and he was unperturbed. Instead, he gave a quiet little sigh, rubbing his face.  


“Cecily. I wasn’t wrong. Father does love all of us equally.”  


“No. He doesn’t. You saw how he picked up Castiel, how He _cuddled_ him. It isn’t fair!”  


“Cecily. Enough.” Michael snapped, words sharp and deep like rolling thunder, his Grace reaching out and demanding respect and obedience. “Just because you do not get your way all the time does not mean that Father prefers another to you. Enough arguing. It is time for you to sleep.”  


The little fledgling’s eyes widened and she trembled at the amount of power that Michael held, used to the gentler side of her brother and guardian. Quietly, she scampered off and curled up in the bed, hiding as best she could under the blankets.  
Sighing, Michael shook his head, considered going after her, but thought better of it and simply made his way to his Father’s home, hoping to ease his own worries. Instead, he returned home feeling drained, as if Father simply spoke in circles and Michael had no words of comfort for Cecily, who was wide awake and pressed against her headboard.  


Another nightmare and this time, Michael hadn’t been there to stop them before they had gotten too bad, before she’d begun to cry and his heart wrenched as he reached out and gathered her close, even as she thrashed to get away from him. Softly, he began to hum a little lullaby, rocking the small girl until she fell lax in his arms, asleep once more.  
Carefully, he lay her down, brushing her hair back as he pressed a kiss to her head, staying close and alert. Just in case.


End file.
